


Fitting

by herbailiwick



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e02 The Hounds of Baskerville, M/M, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 11:36:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr user poprockblowjob prompted: "Mystrade. Something around the time of Hounds, before Mycroft sent Lestrade to check up on the boys mayhaps?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fitting

"Thank you for meeting with me like this. I know it's very short notice," Mycroft said, a white paper bag in his hand that, from the smell, Greg guessed held some sort of pastry.

"Well, that smells delicious, so, don't worry about it. And I consider you a friend."

Mycroft stepped inside, looking around at the new flat. "You do?" He tilted his head slightly. "Yes, a friend," he agreed, pleased at the way it even sounded.

"New flat's not much," Greg said, looking around too. "But freedom's expensive."

"Not to mention so are holidays in the sun. Look at you," Mycroft said teasingly. He handed the bag over to Greg. "You look very well. I'm sorry about the divorce, but I'm glad for your freedom." He didn't add that he was also glad for his tan.

Greg sighed heavily. "Yeah, same here. At least we don't have any kids to worry about or anything. I'll miss the cat, though."

Mycroft found his way to the table and seated himself. "About why I'm here. Greg, would you mind taking another holiday?"

"Where? Wait, with you?" Greg peered into the bag. "Aw, they're still warm," he praised, setting the bag on the table, moving over to the kettle.

"Yes, with me." Mycroft found himself studying the handle of his umbrella. "It would be to Dartmoor. I have business to attend to at Baskerville and I won't have time to check up on our favorite doctor and consulting detective. They tried to use my security pass to poke around in the facility, and they're running about on the moor." he sighed. "I do so hate to run. And they don't take to me like they do to you."

"So you want me to do what, exactly?" Greg asked carefully, trying not to focus too fully on the whole trip with Mycroft aspect. He always wanted to spend more time with the man, who he found charming and always seemed to make him smile. And a request like the current one would almost certainly mean all expenses were paid for, which was very tempting indeed.

"Just join them," Mycroft said, shaking his head. "Just join them and keep them safe."

"Bit of a tall order, but," Greg swallowed, trying not to sound too enthusiastic as he busied himself with the tea, "I can handle that, yeah." Okay, good, that was good. That hadn't given anything away.

"I'm pleased to hear that. There's no one I'd rather ask."

"Yeah?" Greg quirked his lip.

"No one," Mycroft repeated with a smile. "How's the tea coming along?"

Greg chuckled. "Oh, stuff it. You can wait a second." He turned, accidentally knocking a tea tin onto the floor, bending to pick it up.

Mycroft took a long look at his backside as he retrieved the tin.

"So, where will we stay?" Greg asked.

"I can book us some reasonable rooms."

"We could do one, you know. A single room with two beds. Since you're paying and all. Either way, I don't want to impose, so, whichever's easier on you." It might be that Mycroft would enjoy the company, or it might be that he'd prefer silence and solitude. "I know I talk a lot," Greg said with a bit of nervousness. "And, uh, I'm not exactly tidy." He gestured to his flat.

"Tidy enough," Mycroft said kindly. "Are you sure you'd be comfortable sharing a room with me?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'll admit I'm attracted to you, which I'm sure you've already deduced," he said, rolling his eyes, "but it doesn't have to be awkward."

Mycroft stared at him, eyes wide.

"Aw hell," Greg said, covering his face with his hand. "You didn't know that, did you?"

"No," Mycroft admitted.

"Well, cat's outta the bag." He sighed. "But anyway, like I said, there shouldn't be a problem, unless I've upset you now."

"I'm flattered, not upset," Mycroft assured him.

"I better just shut up," said Greg. "I feel so awkward, being single again and all."

Mycroft quirked his lip fondly. "I feel awkward about this type of thing as well, and I'm an old hat."

"No. Really? You seem so smooth," Greg said, astonished.

"Not always," Mycroft said, eyes briefly wandering away to stare at the table.

Greg cleared his throat. "We should be fine with one room, two beds?"

"Yes," Mycroft confirmed, drawing his mobile out of his pocket. "I'll set it up." He nudged the bag toward the empty chair across from him. "You have a seat."

***

"This is what I wear to bed, I swear," Greg said as he stripped to his boxers. "I sleep like this. It's not, er, special for you. And let me know if it bothers you, seriously."

Mycroft, dressed in full silk pyjamas, laughed. "I'm not bothered at all, Greg. And, to be clear, this isn't special pyjama armor or anything like that. None of us has any reason to feel self-conscious about _clothing_."

Greg rolled his eyes, settling in with a paperback mystery book he'd picked up. "Just wanted to make sure, after I blurted out that...well, you know."

"I do know. I was glad to hear it."

"Right, I mean, it's flattering." Greg felt his face heat as he tried to find his place in the book.

Mycroft chewed at his lip thoughtfully. "Do you think that's the only reason? Flattery?"

"Isn't it?" Greg looked over at his friend, who shrugged. Greg frowned, realizing his friend was sneaking glances at his bare chest and arms. "Oh. You're attracted to me too?"

"It's not just physical," Mycroft said quickly, turning away, staring at the ceiling. "You're also a very good, dependable, admirable man. You'd never be unfaithful to a partner, you'd always believe a friend—up to the point where it might be foolish to, and you have reliable gut instincts. Doesn't that sound attractive?"

"Er, yeah. Actually...it does."

"I worry about the fact you are newly divorced," Mycroft pointed out.

"I'll behave myself," Greg said.

"Oh, of course _you_ will."

Greg raised an eyebrow, turning on his side, his weight on his elbow. "Pardon? Are you meaning to say you, Actual British Government Mycroft Holmes, might do anything less than behave yourself?"

"Significantly less," Mycroft said in challenge, glancing at Greg. "I'd be much more likely to flirt with you, now I know you're attracted to me. I'd rather like to, ah, charm the pants off of you, Greg. But I won't cross that line. In the future, perhaps."

Greg had trouble getting to sleep when the lights went out and, truth be told, so did Mycroft.

***

"You know," Greg said at breakfast, "You're not so bad yourself. Powerful, but you always keep yourself in check. Dignified. Careful. Really careful, gentle. Your restraint outmatches anyone else's I've ever seen, and I commend you for it, for all you have to put up with. I do think you worry too much, though."

"Do I?"

"Yeah. I've known my marriage wasn't going to last since about four months in. I'd been delaying the inevitable. I think you picked up on that."

"I wanted it to work out for you," Mycroft said a little sadly.

"See? Who wouldn't fall for you," Greg said, nudging him. "You always want what's best for people, even me. And I'm not used to that."

Mycroft did look properly sad, placing a hand over Greg's. "I'm sorry she didn't cherish you," he said. "You seemed a wonderful husband."

Greg stared into his coffee and fought against tears. "How come you always know what to say, hm?" he said, smiling a wavery smile into the dark liquid.

"I don't. I have absolutely no idea what to say." Mycroft let go of the hand, occupying himself with his silverware. "But, I'm glad you approve of my fumbling."

***

Greg sat, a bit jumpy, having kicked off muddy shoes and jeans with mud at the bottom, leaving them in the bathroom. "I never wanna do that again," he said honestly. "You don't know what it was like out there."

"No, I don't," Mycroft said with a guilty swallow.

Ah, he must have been thinking he should have been there with the rest, as if he had to prove himself or something. "Oh don't feel bad; I'm glad you weren't there. Don't feel bad. I was half outta my mind myself."

Mycroft got out of the bed in his pyjamas, sitting carefully next to Greg. "You're still shaken up," he said gently.

Greg wrapped his arms around Mycroft after a moment of hesitation, leaning into his shoulder, resting his head. "I'll be okay," he assured Mycroft. "Thanks."

"Of course," said Mycroft a bit stiffly.

***

Mycroft showed up at his door late again with a white paper bag and a nervous smile.

"Just get finished with work? Come in, then," he said, holding the door. "Come on, I'll put some tea on."

Mycroft relaxed. He handed the bag to Greg, then settled down on the sofa. "Let's watch something. I wanted to unwind, but I didn't want to be alone to do it. I've missed you."

Greg couldn't help but grin. "I've missed you too," he said. "Let's find something good to watch, shall we?" Greg bent to pick through his small movie collection

"Yes, let's," Mycroft said, thinking to himself he'd already found something quite good to watch as he stared at Greg's arse. "Let's go out on a proper date tomorrow," he called.

Greg turned to look at him, sitting on the floor. "Yeah, sure!" he said. "Yeah, I think we're both ready, don't you?"

"As we'll ever be," Mycroft answered, amused. "Now quick, turn round again. I was admiring the fit of your jeans."

Greg reddened, but resumed looking for a good film, daring to shake his hips just a bit.


End file.
